The Aftermath
by Kitty O
Summary: This is the sequel to my story Le Morte de Merlin. The Royals suffer for killing Merlin, each in their own way, one shot. Deathfic. No slash.


_**A/N: I'm writing this because I can't help -shot, sequel to **_**Le Morte de Merlin**_**, my one-shot about Merlin's execution. You might want to read that first… **_

**UTHER**

Uther didn't want to get out of bed. It was too hard. He didn't think he could face another day… He almost wished he didn't have to wake up every morning, get up and deal with... everyone. So many people to please, and all he wanted was to be alone in his misery.

The king never thought he'd see the day when he regretted killing a sorcerer. But he did now. He regretted executing Merlin, his son's manservant. Nothing good had come of it. Only pain and bad things…

And to think he'd been so proud and smug as he watched the flames dance hungrily, the smoke rising towards the heavens while Merlin, he was sure, sunk down to hell.

Honestly, he hadn't enjoyed the screaming. He never did. But the pride and sense of accomplishment was still there. He was again the savior of Camelot, protecting the people from an evil sorcerer hiding within its own walls.

Embarrassingly enough, it had been his own idea for Merlin to be Arthur's manservant. But Merlin had certainly paid dearly for that embarrassment. He had suffered, Uther knew. It made the king a little uncomfortable, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself. He said to himself that the strange feeling in his stomach was due to the fact that a sorcerer had gotten so close. It wasn't because he had actually known Merlin. It was positively not that, in his own way, he had _liked _Merlin.

For the life of him he wouldn't admit that his discomfort was because he dreamed of Merlin's smiling face. He dreamed of the times Merlin helped Arthur. Of the time Merlin had saved Uther. Of all the times Uther had caught his son laughing at something the dead manservant had said. (It was all part of the sorcerer's evil plan, Uther had convinced himself. He was just pretending to be light-hearted and amusing.)

There was no end of things Uther wouldn't admit to himself these days. For one thing, he wouldn't admit he had the nightmares. Also, he wouldn't admit that he hadn't looked at anything that day. When the flames engulfed the servant, Uther hadn't watched him die, and he hadn't looked at his son. His gaze had been quite firmly on the smoke drifting through the air. Through his sense of satisfaction, he had been worried. No one got that close without leaving something behind. No sorcerer who was almost successful in his evil plan died without a legacy. And, what Uther knew without a shadow of a doubt, no battle against withcraft became so personal without leaving scars, physical or mental.

There was a third thing Uther wouldn't admit, but it was the real reason he didn't want to leave his bed. The reason was: they all hated him.

Gaius. The man had quit. He'd told Uther, eyes cold as ice, that he was leaving. He was going to Ealdor to tell Merlin's mother, as Uther hadn't seen fit to inform her that her only son was dead. Those were Gaius's exact words. Uther had panicked. Of course he knew Merlin's death would affect the physician… But…

"You'll be back?" he'd asked.

"No, Sire," said Gaius.

For a moment, Uther could've sworn he read Gaius's mind. And the thoughts in there were so awful that the king didn't say another word.

Arthur. Uther's own son wouldn't look at him unless ordered to, as though he found his father repulsive. He didn't smile or laugh, but he didn't yell either. There was no hurt or betrayal in Arthur's eyes. Just cold. As though someone had stolen his son's soul.

Morgana. Uther never even thought she'd liked Merlin, but she must've. Because she hated him. Her words were icy and clipped, her looks were venomous. She wouldn't hug him, she wouldn't touch him. She just looked like she wanted to kill him.

Eventually a servant came in and got him out of bed. Uther complied, going about his business as usual, hating every moment of it.

How he loathed that dead warlock. He'd ruined Uther's life without so much as _looking _at the king. Uther wished he could have him back so he could kill him again.

Or perhaps so he could spare him this time.

**GAIUS**

Gaius walked down the road alone.

He had to leave. Camelot had been his home so many years. But then his definition of Home changed. Somehow it stopped meaning Camelot and work and Arthur and Uther. At some point, home had begun to mean "Merlin", the boy he loved like his own.

Then Uther took his Home from him.

Home was dead. And Gaius was not dead. He was not home, but he wished he was. Gaius was lost.

Gaius had known from the minute Merlin stopped thrashing about on the stake, screaming and begging God and the king to stop the hurting, that he, Gaius, would leave Camelot.

Because if Gaius stayed, he would be unable to stop himself. It might have been a day, a month, a year, but if Gaius had not quit, Uther would have died. He would have choked over his breakfast, had an allergic reaction to his medicine. Morgana might have gone the same way, maybe even Arthur. There would have been no stopping the anger Gaius felt.

Gathering up the last of his courage, the last of his heart and the last of the feelings he kept in his heart for the royal family, he quit. He walked out with no destination in mind. He hadn't stopped walking since.

**MORGANA**

She'd wanted to see Merlin die slowly.

He'd poisoned her. She hated him. And to discover, after all that, that he too had magic…! He of all people should not have stopped her! He should've joined her!

Watching him being dragged to the stake, scared stiff, had filled her heart with something warm and pleasant…

Revenge. She knew this was her doing.

Even as the flames licked at him, she'd smiled. Perhaps he would see her smiling and suffer more. Even as his flesh began to burn and smoke, peeling away from his bone, she'd watched.

Then he looked at her.

He wasn't crying. Or perhaps he was, but the heat turned his tears to vapor. His eyes were red and pained, but his face was still unscathed. He just looked at her. His eyes flashed gold.

And suddenly they were connected. She could hear his thoughts, and they were horrified screams. But… beyond that, there were words.

_I hope the Dragon was wrong. I hope there's hope… _He was saying, over and over. _Morgana was my friend… my friend…_

She'd suddenly felt broken. Merlin. What had she done? It was all her doing… Merlin. He'd been trying to help… Not her path, but what he thought was right…

All her fault…

She'd fainted, then.

She hadn't regretted most of the things, the evil things, she'd done. But this she regretted. She wished she hadn't hurt Merlin, wished he wasn't dead.

Somehow, without even knowing it, she'd forgiven him.

It hurt to forgive too late. It hurt so bad it messed with her sleep and her brain and her eating habits…

Unable to cope, she did as she always did. She blamed Uther. She told herself it was his fault.

She would make him pay, too. She wouldn't let herself forgive _him_.

**ARTHUR **

Morgana hated Uther. Uther hated magic. Arthur hated Uther. Gwen hated Arthur, too. Gaius must hate them all.

Arthur felt one hate above the rest. He hated himself.

_Why?_

It was all he could seem to think.

Why hadn't he stopped his father? Why hadn't he gone to see Merlin? Why had he been a coward? Why couldn't he move on? _Why hadn't he at least asked Merlin for his side before throwing him to the wolves?_

Arthur's heart felt broken and raw. It felt burnt.

The irony.

Every day was a living nightmare. He had to sit beside his father, but wanted nothing more than to run his father through. He watched the knights and the people look at him in confusion and fear. They wouldn't forget Merlin's execution soon; Arthur had made sure of that.

Arthur didn't think of it during the day, but he dreamed about it at night. He didn't even thrash about in his sleep when the nightmare came, not anymore. He'd stopped asking the new doctors for sleeping draughts. Because, he decided, this place of torment was going to keep hurting him, keep his heart from healing, until it darn well felt like letting him forgive himself. No sleeping draught could mend his insides.

He wasn't forgiving himself soon. Not for anything.

_When he saw Merlin being led to the stake, he'd noticed the bruises and the caked blood. Someone had beaten him. _

_Arthur had nearly cried._

He remembered the whole scene vividly. _The worst part was the end of it, when Merlin was nearly dead, and the Prince had made a fool of himself._

_Arthur had started crying. Something had snapped; he was crazy. He was sobbing, tearing his crown off of his head and casting it into the dirt. _

"_NOOO! NOOOO! MERLIN!"_

_He'd fallen back against the wall, shaking, screaming the same words over and over and over…_

_Everyone looked at him, terrified. The knights tried to get him away before he disgraced himself, but it was too late. Arthur had no sense of dignity left, he was just a big bundle of brokenness and shame. _

"_Don't let him be dead!" he began to scream, not sure who he was talking to. God? Would God listen? Was that what he would turn to now, religion? _

_Perhaps it wasn't. Merlin wasn't something that the goodness would want to fix, was he? Wasn't he the evil sorcerer? Didn't he deserve…?_

"_NOOOO! Please save him, help him…"_

_Would the Goodness listen to him, to Arthur Pendragon, the man who'd let his best friend die? Wasn't that a greater evil than magic? _

_Still screaming, Arthur was dragged away by the knights, tearing at his hair and begging anyone who would listen to not let this be happening. As if Leon could make Merlin come back. _

_If only he could. _

**GWEN**

Gwen went about her day, smiling. She looked gracious to everyone. She bowed to the nobles and cooked and cleaned.

And hated everyone.

Especially Arthur.

_SO WHAT_ if Merlin had magic? _SO WHAT_ if it was tradition, law…

Killing Merlin was wrong. So wrong. So sick and wrong.

Every time she saw Arthur, her smile dropped. Her eyes narrowed. She ignored him except to hiss a little. Perhaps Arthur would arrest her for it. She wished he would! She wished it!

Arthur looked hurt and sorry, but she couldn't care. She'd begged him to save Merlin and he'd refused.

She hated him, she thought.

But not truly. All she really felt was hurt and sorrow. The hate was just a cover up for the pain. She loved Merlin and missed him sorely. Her pain was fresh and hot.

It was bad, but it wasn't twisted with any real venom, like Morgana's and Uther's. It wasn't riddled with guilt, like Arthur's. Perhaps that was why she was the only one of the bunch who stood a chance of healing. She stood a good chance of moving on, because Gwen, at least, was strong.

**ENDING**

It wasn't long before Morgana's next plan to take Camelot came about. With no Merlin to stop her, she won this time. The look of shock in Uther's eyes as he died… Morgana enjoyed that.

Morgana was soon dead, too, by Arthur's sword. He took it badly, though Gwen nursed his mental wounds like a mother, comforting him through the worst of it.

Morgause had Camelot under her thumb: Merlin dead, Uther dead, Arthur like a man dying…

It didn't take long for the city to fall. Arthur fought for it to the death, but he failed. Most of Camelot died with him, the whole country fell with him. Gwen stood beside him, holding his hand as he died. He smiled when he went, saying, "I think they all forgive me up there..."

Crying, Gwen assured him that he was going to a better place.

Then she left town, to find her way in the world. She met Lancelot and married him, feeling herself heal more as every day went past. When she died, she was an old grandmother, the most beloved woman in the village.

As for Gaius, the only clue as to his whereabouts came in the form of an injured young man, who one day walked into a tavern and told his story over many drinks. Everyone listened, hoping for something worth repeating. They were not disappointed. There was something exciting about a strange old man who saved the young one's life with magic, dying in the attempt. As he died, the young man said, he muttered the name, "Merlin."

Who was Merlin? Everyone wondered. They had certainly never heard of him.

_**A/N: I'm pretty sick. I'm sorry, I know this is rambly and all... and totally pointless. But I had so many negative feelings in me...**_

_**Guess what? They're all gone!**_


End file.
